


Winter’s Bite, Princess and the Pauper AU

by theoldthetruethebrave



Category: Jon x Sansa - Fandom, Jonsa - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: F/M, jon x sansa - Freeform, jonsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-18 14:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17582969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoldthetruethebrave/pseuds/theoldthetruethebrave
Summary: Sansa Stark and Jon Snow live seemingly opposite lives. Sansa Stark is a noble princess, daughter of King Eddard Stark, while Jon is a pauper, begging and stealing to get by. But, they have one thing in common. A certain emptiness in their lives. So, when their two worlds collide, their lives will never be the same. (A pretty slow burn, be warned folks).





	1. Sansa, Chapter One

SANSA

“I can’t do this anymore” she says through gritted teeth. Her reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror shows an angry, contorted face. “Come on. Isn’t it good enough?”

But she knows it won’t be. Nothing is ever good for them. Sansa always used to tell herself that courtesy is a lady’s armour, but sometimes, that armour is too heavy to wear.

She smooths her hands down over her white wedding dress. Her bright auburn hair, which is knotted in a tight bun, shimmers like a red water. Lipstick marks her lips, and soft pink eyeshadow smeared on her thin eyelids. 

Sansa knows that they’ll be waiting outside the door to her chambers. Her mother, her father, her brothers and her sister. She closes her eyes when she thinks of her family. Will be the last time she’ll ever see them? Her mother assured her that she can visit anytime she wants...but Joffrey’s southern castle is far away, and would take weeks to arrive by carriage. Unless mother plans to send her on dragon back, Sansa thinks scornfully. 

She imagined being a bride since she was a little girl. She would force her little sister, Arya, to play dress-up with her. Arya was the grumpy groom, and Sansa the beautiful bride, wearing her mother’s old silks as a pretend gown. She imagined herself marrying someone handsome. Someone brave and gentle, and strong. Just like her father promised. But Joffrey? Sure, he was handsome, with glittering emerald eyes and hair that looks like spun gold, but he’s also cowardly, arrogant and cruel. She imagined his hands caressing her...his lips on hers...she shudders in a painful cringe. 

Suddenly, her eyes glance over to the window beside her bed. A large window made of delicate glass that overlooks the frozen lake by the castle. Sansa wasn’t very high up in the castle. Walking over, her heels softly clicking against the stone floor, she spots a pile of hay directly below her window, probably left there by a lazy stable boy. If she were to jump, she wouldn’t die. Nothing would break. Yes, bruises and scrapes and cuts would appear on her body, but nothing fatal. 

Out of nowhere, Sansa feels determination grip her body like a vice. She grabs the wooden chair that stands next to her crystal and quartz vanity, and without a second thought, hurled it using all of her strength at the window. 

It shatters, and the sound is like the wailing cry of a child. The glass drops down like a a flock of dead birds, and lands below. 

Balling her pale hands into fists and gritting her teeth, Sansa leaps out the window, like a wolf bounding into the night.


	2. Jon, Chapter Two

JON

The gold and silver coins click and rattle together as he runs through the muddy streets of his village. His heart thudding inside of his ribcage like a prisoner rattling at the bars of his cell, and his head spinning, all weaves in between houses silently, like a shadow.

His only true companion, his wolf, Ghost, is at his heels. Through the corner of his eye, Jon spots his glowing red eyes, like lanterns to hell. 

Deciding it was safe, Jon bounds into a narrow alleyway, leaning against the wall of a butcher shop, his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

Jon grins as he stares down at his knapsack. He unbuttons it, and the gold and silver coins wink at him, as if trying to entice him. 

“We did good, Ghost” he laughs, bending down and placing his hands on his knees. “This is enough to feed everyone for a month!”

Ghost eagerly licks at Jon’s hand as the two of them walk to their hideaway. The people in the village call it the Summer’s Palace as a joke, but Jon calls it home. It’s the only home he’s ever known. He purchased it years ago as a young teenager, scraping money together to give himself shelter. 

He unlocks the front door with a cold, large key, and the heavy door creaks open. 

A crowd of children run up to him, to pet Ghost, to peer inside his knapsack.

“What do you have for us today, mister Jon?” asks a little boy. Orphaned at three, he doesn’t even remember his own name. Jon calls him Dusty, because he always seems to have a small bit of dust on the tip of his nose. 

“We’re so hungry, mister Jon” says a crippled girl. She was mauled by a dog when she was only five years of age, and lost her left hand. Her greasy, dirty hair is tied back in a long, swishing braid.

The children rejects of the kingdom are Jon’s only friends. He takes care of the children, keeps them well fed and puts a roof over his head. Jon knows too well what it’s like to be an orphan in this kingdom. Cold, alone and starving, many die before they reach age ten. But Jon offers them a home. A life. 

Jon musses up a young boy’s hair, as Ghost circles around his feet. “This is going to be your early Christmas, children” his voice booms through the house. 

He pours all the coins down onto the ground, and they make a miniature mountain. The children’s mouths drop open, and their eyes enlarge like a hundred little moons, gasping and gaping.

“How did you...” a little girl asks, her hands shaking. 

“That doesn’t matter” Jon says. “What matters is with this money, we can have food. More clothes. Some fresh water for a change. Maybe I’ll buy a horse and carriage, so we can get around a bit easier”

“You’re our king, Jon!” a voice erupts, and Jon blushes, stares down at his feet. 

“I’m no such thing” Jon says. “Now, it’s getting late. Best you all get to bed”

Outside, the sun is setting, sunrise blooming over the sky like a yellow and orange flower. Jon commands Ghost to stay with the children while he visits the village graveyard.

It’s sort of like a tradition for Jon. Every Sunday night at dusk, he gathers a few wildflowers and places them at his mother’s grave.

It’s not like he ever knew her. She died before he was even born. As he walks to the hill where all the dead in the village are buried, that hollowness that lives inside of him, like a wild animal in a forest, starts to gnaw at him. 

When he reaches her grave, which only has her last name, Snow, he places down the flowers and tilts his head up to the sky. 

It looks as though it’s on fire, red flames overtaking the soft blue. Jon slowly parts his lips and whispers. “Please. Show me a sign. Something. That someone’s out there for me”

The long grass blew softly. The world slowly got darker, and suddenly Jon felt more minuscule than he ever has.


	3. Sansa, Chapter Three

SANSA

A splitting headache is all she manages to feel. Picking strands of hay from her hair, she manages to get to her feet. 

She stares at the castle above her. It seems so far away now, almost as if her life before was a hazy dream. 

Focusing on the stone wall that surrounds the perimeter of the castle, Sansa curses herself. There’ll be no way to leave. No way her father’s guards would open the gates for her to leave. The heavy weight of defeat hangs on her shoulders, and she suddenly feels a fool. 

But the lake that she glanced at before winks at her, the bright sunset light reflecting upon it. The castle’s wall doesn’t wrap around the lake. If Sansa were to cross it...she could escape. 

But where would I go? Sansa thinks, her thoughts racing like wild horses. My only family is here. But she did have an aunt, aunt Lysa, who lived in the mountains. Her family rarely went to visit her. Maybe Sansa could convince her aunt to let her stay with her, until her marriage with Joffrey Baratheon would be annulled. 

Her legs throbbed with pain as she walked. Behind her the castle watched her walk away, like a pet she left behind. 

Staring ahead at the lake, Sansa can’t help but smile. She and her siblings used to come skating here. She remembers how scared she was to stand on the ice as a girl. Her older brother, Robb, would hold her cold little hand and help her stand up straight above the slippery ice. She always felt braver around him. Sometimes Arya, and Bran, Sansa’s younger brother, would sneak snowballs onto the frozen lake, and ambush them with a flurry of snow. 

When Sansa placed her feet down on the ice, she braced herself for cracks to emerge, sprouting out like veins. But nothing happened. She only saw herself reflected back in the ice, a scared, bruised girl. 

She suddenly heard voices erupting from the castle, and her heart froze. They’d be looking for her soon. The whole kingdom would be searched, every nook and cranny. 

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she runs across the frozen lake. Her reflection runs along with her, like a dark shadow at her heels. 

Hearing the sound of a horn from behind her, she looses her footing and slips. Crashing to her knees, she places her palms out to soften her fall. Her hair falling from its bun in curly red knots, she stares down at the palms of her hands, which had bloody cuts running through them like tree roots. 

I can do this, Sansa tells herself. I can’t marry him, I can’t spend the rest of my life with that man...I...I’d rather die. 

Groaning, she swallows a lump in her throat and gets to her feet. Clouds above her start to get closer together and darker, the threat of a night storm coming. 

Shivering, Sansa reaches the end of the lake. Looking down at her hands, where she had three rings and a gold bracelet her mother gave her. I guess I can sell one of the rings for a months stay at a good inn, Sansa thinks, twisting the ruby ring on her thumb. 

At the end of the lake is a small but thick forest that Sansa knows leads to one of the villages in their kingdom of Winterfell. Sansa remembers a time when she was very young and her father took her and Arya into the village. She remembers how busy and lively it all was, a million sounds and colours rushing to meet her. But some people looked starving, children at the sides of the road, begging for food. It made her feel uneasy, as if she was looking at a problem she knew she couldn’t solve. She had looked away then, but maybe now, she could help them. Somehow.

Trudging through the forest, the trees softly rattled their thin, decaying branches together, as if singing an enchanted song. Sansa pulls the lacy sleeves of her wedding dress further down her arms, and hitches up the long, white skirt of her dress so a loose thread wouldn’t get caught in a tree root.

Something white in the corner of her eye seemed to move. Blaming it on tiredness and an overactive imagination, Sansa pushes it from her thoughts. But as the white shadow seems to move closer to her, she stops in her tracks, and looks over her shoulder warily. 

“Who-who’s there?” Sansa tried to make her voice sound loud and powerful, but it came out weak and hoarse. “Show yourself”

Something brushed at her legs. Yelling out, Sansa stumbles backwards, tripping over her dress and crashes to the muddy ground. To her horror, a giant white wolf with blaring red eyes stands over her. 

Whimpering, Sansa tries to crawl away. But the wolf won’t take his eyes off of her. Scrunching her eyes shut and preparing for a very painful death, Sansa held her breath. But instead of feeling the wolf’s jaws close over her neck, she feels it’s tongue run down her cheek affectionately.

Confused, she sits up. The wolf nuzzles her chest, and lets out a soft whine. Completely shocked, Sansa starts to laugh, and runs her fingers through the wolf’s thick, soft white fur. 

“You nearly scared me to death” she giggles, as it’s red eyes, which now seem gentle, scan her face. 

The wolf sits up, and without warning, bounds into the forest, heading west. The way it moved, almost seem to whisper to Sansa, “follow me”.

Deciding she had nothing to loose, Sansa picked herself up and followed the ghostly white wolf into a world she’s never seen before.


	4. Jon, Chapter Four

JON

Inside of the dim and quiet house, Jon felt Ghost’s absence like a missing limb. Rubbing his hands together, he tosses a few logs into the brick and stone fireplace, and lights it. Tiredly, he watches the orange and yellow flames dance and flicker, the crackling sound of the fire filling his ears. 

Sitting down at his desk, he picks up the letter his best friend Sam sent him last week. Jon wanted to reply, he even forced the quill into his hand, but he just couldn’t figure out the words. Him and Sam were orphans together, and they spent most of their teenage lives in the same world. But their lives branched off like the long limbs of a tree after that. Sam became a family man, settling down with the love of his life, Gilly, and their son. Jon will never admit it, but a small part of him is jealous of what Sam has. Someone to love him.

Staring wearily into the glowing embers of the fire, Jon feels his eyelids getting heavier. He leans back into the chair, and yawns.

A scratching sound suddenly fills his ears. Thinking it’s just noise emitting from the fireplace, Jon pushes it away. But it gets louder and louder, like something clawing at the front door. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jon anxiously grabs his most prized possession, his sword, Longclaw, from its hiding spot under the desk, and wraps his fingers around its hilt tightly. 

Who could it be at this hour? Jon thinks. Everybody should be asleep by now. Unless...word got out about my new find, and somebody’s come to steal it. 

Taking a deep breath in, and holding out Longclaw the way a child would hold out a lantern to shield them from the darkness, Jon pulls the heavy front door open.

The sight at his front door made him drop the sword. It clattered to the ground. 

In the doorway was Ghost like Jon had never seen him before. The beast was wagging his tail! He looked at Jon eagerly. 

But Ghost isn’t what shocked him. It was who is standing beside him. 

A woman. 

Half of her auburn hair is tied back into a bun, and the rest falls like gentle wisps down her face. Her gorgeous, shimmering white dress is smeared with mud and dirt, and Jon notices cuts and bruises running up her arm like stains. And her eyes...such a delicate, China blue, but at same time, powerful, like the moving waves of a deep ocean. 

Staring at him, shivering, she clears her throat. “Excuse my curtness, but I’ve had quite the long day. Will you let me in, or not?”


	5. Arya, Chapter Five

ARYA

“What’s going on? Where’s Sansa?” Arya’s thoughts are racing a mile a minute as she and Robb leave the wedding ceremony in the castle’s courtyard, to the horse stables.

“I don’t know. All I know is that Father told Bran to come and fetch us because Sansa’s gone missing” Robb, who is usually all confidence and assertiveness, was wringing his hands together nervously, staring down at his feet as if all his answers were there.

Arya felt her worry grow inside of her stomach like a storm. Above them, the sky has gone darker, the clouds grouping together as if by magnetic force.

“This doesn’t make any sense” Arya says, as they trudge through the muddy ground to the stables. “Sansa...she wouldn’t never do something like that”

“Can you blame her?” Robb scoffs. “If I was going to marry that ass, I’d want to run away too”

At the stables, their father was pacing back and forth, while her mother murmurs soft prayers. Rickon, their baby brother, who is too young to understand what’s happening, giggles and pulls at Bran’s hair.

“Finally” Catelyn Stark rises from her seat on the ground, wiping off the dirt best she can with her dress. “We were worried you didn’t get the message”

“Sorry, I was too occupied with the wedding cake” Robb shrugs. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Sansa” Arya has never seen Eddard Stark so distraught in all of her life. His face is a greyish shade, and his bottom lip is shaking like a child who’s about to cry. “She...she’s gone”

“We know that” Arya cuts in. “But where to?”

“She couldn’t have gone far” Bran says as he tries to wrestle Rickon off of his back. “I mean...she couldn’t have”

“We’ll send out all our best guards to look for her, and we will go too. I just pray that we find her before Joffrey does. Who knows what he’d do to her when he learns she ran away from his wedding” Ned says, his voice hollow.

Arya starts to drown in her thoughts, the words “I don’t know what he’d do to her” ringing in her head like church bells.


	6. Jon, Chapter Six

JON

The both of them huddle around the campfire like little cold children. Jon wrapped his cloak (his only cloak, one that he stole years ago to warm his body during the cold Winterfell nights) awkwardly around her shoulders, trying not to touch her and be invasive.

He watches her place her palms up against the fire, trying to absorb its warmth. Ghost has taken quite the liking to her, he even has his head in her lap. 

There’s just something so beautiful and tragic about her, Jon thinks. Like a broken china doll, with cracks running up its porcelain skin. 

She’s taken her hair out of its messy bun, and now her shiny auburn hair cascades down her shoulders like a red river.

Realizing that he’s been staring at her like an oaf, he clears his throat. “So. Uh, might I ask just who you are?”

The girl draws a deep breath in, and drops her palms from the fire. “I...if I tell you, you’d probably never let me stay here”

“Aye, that’s nonsense” Jon says quickly. “Nothing you’d say would make me abandon you like that”

“That’s sweet of you” she says, and starts to run her fingers through Ghost’s fur. “My name is Sansa, Sansa Stark”

Jon could feel his insides freeze, his body lining with frost. “What? You’re...”

“I know” she closes her eyes, as if she can’t bear to see the world around her. “I know”

Jon stands up abruptly. “If I’m caught with you...they’ll think I’ve kidnapped you, or hurt you, or...”

“Now that’s nonsense” Sansa tells him. “My father is a kind man. He would never do such a thing. Joffrey Baratheon, however...”

“Joffrey? Prince of the Southern Kingdom?”

“Yes. I was arranged to marry him today, but I...I ran away. I couldn’t even bear the thought of spending the rest of my life with that cruel man. But, as soon as he figures that out, he’ll be sure to have my little head on a spike”

Jon sits back down, and stares deeply into those blue, blue eyes. “Princess. I swear by the Old Gods and the new, I will protect you”

She smiles, and to Jon, it looks like pure sunshine. “Thank you. And calling me Princess is unnecessary. Just Sansa will do. And what about you? What’s your story?”

“I’m just Jon. An orphan, a thief and a peasant. Nothing much to you, likely” he chuckles.

“That’s ridiculous. Now, if you can excuse me, I’d like to go and bathe and get a long nights rest” she rises gracefully from the ground, Ghost hopping off of her lap. 

“Bathroom is on the second floor to the right. Have any bedchamber you want that isn’t already occupied by an orphan” he smiles.

Watching her walk away with her ripped and torn white dress brushing at the ground gave him the same sensation as being punched in the stomach.


	7. Sansa, Chapter Seven

SANSA

That night, Sansa had the worst nightmare of her life. It felt so real that when she woke up, she was drenched with sweat and gasping for air.

Clutching at her chest, she closes her eyes. She can feel the warmth of early morning sunlight streaming in through her window. The nightmare was about Joffrey kidnapping her in the middle of the night, snatching her away and caging her like a bird. No matter how hard she tried, she could never escape the bars of her cage, and ended up breaking her wings. 

Slowly peeling open her eyes, Sansa glances out the window. To her surprise, a beautiful blue bird with a shimmering turquoise stomach stands at the window sill, chirping at her through the glass.

Sansa smiles. “Why, aren’t you the handsome fellow?”

Walking over and gingerly opening the window as to not scare away the little bird, she extends her hand out, the soft but cool morning breeze brushing at her skin. 

The bird hops onto her index finger, and chirps. Its shiny dark eyes, oddly enough, reminded her of Jon Snow, the man kind enough to let her stay with him.

A part of Sansa longs to see him. She’s never met anybody like him before. He’s so brave, and gentle, yet strong. She feels safe around him, like if anything bad in the world happened, it would all be okay. 

Sansa starts to sing to the bird, one of the songs her mother sang to her as a child. 

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockleshells and pretty maids all in a row” 

Turning around, the bird perched on her finger, she raises her eyebrows in surprise. Standing in her doorway are a dozen children, all staring at her with wide-eyes.

“Oh, I apologize. Did I wake you children?”

They shook their heads. 

“You have a pretty singing voice, ma’am” says a little girl with bright blue eyes.

“Thank you” Sansa blushes. She’s not used to compliments, especially genuine ones. She watches the bird flicker it’s wings and fly away, out the window, up to the grey watercolour sky. 

“Children, are you disrupting Sansa?” Without even seeing his face, Sansa knew it was Jon speaking. His husky, low voice took her eyes away from the sky, and to him. 

He has dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept all night. 

“They weren’t being a bother” Sansa says. “They were being such a lovely audience, though”

“We heard Sansa sing!” one child beams, his eyes full of twinkling stars. “It was beautiful!”

“Alright, children. Mind if you clear out? I’d like to speak to Sansa in private”

Giggling, the children ducked under Jon’s arms and their little feet padded down the creaky wooden floors of the hallway. Standing in the doorway, Jon looked nervous.

“I’ve invited my friend Sam over to look at your cuts” Jon says. “He’s a maester. And don’t worry, I’d trust that man with my life”

“That’s most kind of you” Sansa says, and she rubs her arms as it hit by a cold breeze. “It’s just...I need to depart Winterfell. As soon as possible. I was thinking about staying with my aunt Lysa until this whole ordeal dies down”

“Lysa Arryn?” Jon’s mouth twists into a frown. “But that’s all the way in the Vale, up in the mountains”

“Where Joffrey can never reach me” Sansa says, hoping to reassure Jon, and herself. “Me and aunt Lysa have never been close...but I know she’d never turn her own blood away. And I won’t stay there forever, just...for the meantime”

“For the meantime” Jon repeats quietly, but clears his throat. “I can escort you there myself, my lady, in two moons time”

“Lovely” she smiles. Trying to change the subject, she looks down at her torn dress, loose threads and buttons sticking out like gnarled fingers. “Goodness! I must change out of this horrid wedding dress, don’t you think?”

“Uh, yes. Sam’s wife Gilly is stopping by with him. I told her in my letter that if she had any unwanted dresses, that she might kindly let you borrow them”

“Lovely”

Staring into Jon’s deep forest brown eyes, as it started to softly rain outside, little droplets hitting the window softly, Sansa suddenly felt like she was at home, a place where her body and soul completely and utterly belongs.


	8. Robb, Chapter Eight

ROBB

Robb rubs his temples with two cold index fingers. He still has a throbbing headache from when Joffrey threw a temper tantrum when he realized his bride had run away. 

In front of all of the guests, he threw the table that held the gigantic vanilla white cake upside down, and it of course, crashed to the ground, much to Robb’s dismay. After that, he pulled out his sword, and started threatening the people of Winterfell. That, if his bride wasn’t found within a fortnight, there would be a war between the two kingdoms, Southern and Northern, while his mother, the golden lioness herself, Cersei Lannister, watched, tapping her fingers on the sides of her arms as if she found the whole thing quite entertaining. 

Robb is worried. About Sansa, about his father. Eddard is blaming himself for the whole ordeal, and hasn’t eaten in days. 

The whole Stark family is out looking. Eddard went north of Winterfell, to the thick forests and rivers and took five hundred men with him. Catelyn and Arya went to the East, while Bran and their uncle Benjen took to the West of Winterfell. And Robb went South. 

“Robb, will we ever find Sansa?” Rickon asks, his little legs jogging to keep up with Robb’s long strides. 

Rickon was supposed to stay back at Winterfell with maester Luwin, but he insisted on coming along. So far, Rickon has complained that he’s hungry at least eight times, made a mud ball with the dirt caked between the cracked sidewalks and the road and threw it at Robb, tripped on his own feet and sobbed for at least twenty minutes, and last but not least, gasped when he saw a stray cat, and claimed that it was a unicorn in disguise.

“At this rate, she’s probably disappeared” Robb didn’t expect that he and Rickon would be traveling to the poorer side of Winterfell. Poverty was everywhere; at the skinny, old houses with the broken glass windows, the skinny children with dirt matted in their hair, and the people crowding together, huddling like penguins to escape the cold. 

The men that Robb brought with him are at his command. Some he had disperse to speak with the common folk, ask them if they’d seen anything, and the rest, he had walk next to him and Rickon for safety. 

If I was Sansa, where would I go? Robb thinks, as he scans the buildings that surround him like trees. 

A part of him thinks Sansa is already dead. Lying in a gutter somewhere, bleeding out. People can be greedy, especially to a runaway princess. He doesn’t want to think of the worst, but he could see a group of people ganging up on her, taking her jewels and expensive dress. 

Robb looks down at his hands, flexes his fingers and imagines them wrapped around his sword, which he swings at Joffrey’s head. If nobody finds Sansa, their little needle in a haystack, he knows that it will be her head taken off if she’d be found by Joffrey.


	9. Jon, Chapter Nine

JON

Jon drums his fingers impatiently on the windowsill, looking through the frost tinted glass outside.

It’s a cold day, colder than usual. The kind of cold that would bite you if you stood outside for too long. Jon felt a mountain of pity grow inside of his stomach when he thinks of all those who don’t have a home, sitting outside, exposed to the ruthless, angry cold.

When the knock appears at the door, Jon jumps slightly in his seat by the window, and goosebumps rise on his arms. 

What if it’s a castle guard, come to take Sansa away? He thought of her, upstairs, brushing the dirt out of her hair and humming to herself. They’d have to kill him before touching her. 

Slowly, he pulls the heavy door open, and looks outside. Instantly, the cold hits him like a slap to the face, and he blinks, tries to hold his breath so the cold won’t fill his lungs up. 

“Jon? Is that you?”

Jon’s face instantly breaks into a smile. To his left stand his favourite couple, Sam and Gilly Tarly, Gilly holding their son on her hip. The little boy looks at Jon and sneezes.

“Goodness, Sam, come in! It’s deathly outside!” Jon yanks the door open and let’s the three in. 

“I’ve brought some dresses of mine, but I doubt that they’d fit a princess” Gilly says sheepishly, looking down at her feet. She lets Sam Jr down, and he instantly runs upstairs, to find some other children to play with. 

“She’ll love them. I’ll call her down” shouting out Sansa’s name, he turns to close the front door. 

When Jon turns around from shutting and locking the door firmly, Sansa is descending down the creaky, old spiral staircase that connects the two floors. His breath is sucked right out of his lungs in an instant. 

He gets that reaction whenever he sees her. He knows he must push it away, and he knows he must push it away fast. She’s a princess, I’m a pauper, he thinks. 

“How lovely to meet you two!” Sansa beams, staring at the couple. “My name is Sansa Stark” 

“Hello, your highness” Gilly mumbles nervously. “I-I’ve brought you some things”

“Just Sansa will do, and thank you” Sansa takes the paper bag of folded dresses. “By the way, I love your necklace”

Gilly touches the green pendant on her neck with a flutter of her fingers, blushing, she says, “thank you, Sam bought it for me”

“Before I take a look at your scratches, you must excuse me, I have to speak with Jon for a moment” Sam bows at Sansa, and turns to Jon. Something in Sam’s brown eyes looked scared. 

“Jon” he whispers, taking Jon by the crook of his elbow and leading him away from the entrance room, down the hall into Jon’s study. “They’re everywhere”

“Who’s everywhere?” Jon presses. 

“The guards. All around Winterfell. You won’t believe who knocked on my door this morning asking about Sansa. Prince Robb Stark himself and his little brother! I was shaken” 

Jon swallows nervously, thinking of the fierce Robb Stark, with his fiery hair and icy blue eyes, the man who is the heir to Winterfell. 

“They’re saying that if Sansa isn’t found, the prince of the Southern kingdom, you know, er, Joffrey Baratheon is going to take other measures”

Sam’s words repeat in Jon’s head over and over again like an endless echo. “I’ll keep her safe. I swear it. I won’t let them touch her”

“Good” Sam says, and looks down at his feet. “Because I think that if Joffrey gets his hands on her...she-she’ll die”


	10. Sansa, Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long :((( hopefully you guys will like it though!

QSANSA

Sansa can barely remember what her aunt looked like. When she was just a girl, before even Bran was born, Catelyn took her and Robb and baby Arya to the vale to visit their aunt. All Sansa can recall is the cold glances her mother and aunt shot between each other, how high their castle was. Sansa felt like if she reached out, she could brush the sky with her fingertips. 

Even if she and aunt Lysa were never very close, Sansa is absolutely sure her aunt would never turn away her own blood, and welcome her with open arms once she was informed of the situation.

Gilly’s wrinkled paper bag of old dresses under her arm, Sansa approaches Sam and Jon, who seem to be locked in a deep conversation. Sansa’s stomach swims with uneasiness as she watches Jon’s deep brown eyes, flecked with spots of grey that remind her of flying birds, scrunched in discomfort, his hand over his jaw, as if to hide shaking. 

“Gentlemen” Sansa says. “I was hoping one of you could most kindly enlighten me on the plan of taking me to my aunt in the Vale” 

“That’s what me and Sam were discussing” Jon says. 

“I can give you a horse and carriage to get there” Sam tells her. “But I don’t know how long it would take you”

“Aye, it’d take at least a fortnight to reach the Vale, not including the fact that we won’t be on the kingsroad”

“Why can’t we travel the kingsroad?” Sansa asks, but she knows the answer as soon as the words leave her lips. It’s too dangerous. Joffrey, and her father, most likely, would have sent men scavenging for her on the roads, ready to take her and drag her back to where she came from. 

“It’s much too dangerous, my lady” Samwell shifts his weight across his feet. “But I would be very happy if you and Jon would come and stay with me at our home. We’ve already been checked, so it’s not like you two would be in any danger of searches”

“And I’ll stay here” Gilly pipes up, her eyes bright. “To take care of the children”

“Sam” Jon turns to his best friend, his eyes big with compassion. “I can’t thank you en-“

But Jon hardly has time to finish his sentence. A sharp, thundering knock comes from the front door, and the four of them freeze. 

Sansa feels her heart turn dead cold, as if it stopped beating altogether. Feeling dizzy, she grabs onto Jon, and the sudden touch makes them both turn their heads to another. 

But they barely have time to acknowledge the touch. 

“Hurry” Jon tells her. “The cellar-downstairs. Gilly knows the way”

“But-you-I-“ Sansa splutters, her thoughts racing, her eyes getting lost of his forest of deep brown.

“Don’t you worry about me” Jon’s lips barely move as he speaks, and his dark curls fall down his face. For some reason, Sansa has the reason to brush them out of his eyes. 

The sharp knock comes again, and Sansa flinches. Gilly grabs her wrist, and pulls. 

“My princess” Gilly says, her voice shaky. “We must go, now”

Taking one last fleeting look at Jon, how he stands, muscular hands at his sides, how his chin is tipped upwards, as if praying. Sansa lets out a scared sigh, and let’s herself be pulled away.


	11. Jon, Chapter Eleven

JON

As he walks towards the front door at at a slow, steady pace, his heart thuds inside of him like a gigantic drum. When he places his hand on the cold brass doorknob, a jolt shoots up his body, as if by electrical shock. 

He pulls the door open, and when he sees who’s standing in his doorway, he sucks a deep breath in, like a backwards whistle. 

Four men, dressed in Lannister gold and red armour. They stare at him the way one would stare at a cockroach.

Without saying a single word, they push past Jon and into the home. Gilly clings to Sam’s arm, and Sam stands trembling beside her. 

“Prince Joffrey is looking for his bride” one of them says. His voice cuts something inside of Jon, like a lethal blade. But Jon won’t show these Lannister soldiers weakness. I must pretend as though everything is normal, Jon thinks. I must. 

“Do any of you know where she might be?” Another pipes up. “There’s quite the reward set up for the man who finds her. And well...quite the punishment for the man who’s keeping her”

Jon swallows, and it feels like a rock passing down his throat. “I’m sorry. But I don’t know where the lost princess is”

One of the soldiers, a tall man with a stocky build, steps up to Jon. Without a moments hesitation, he punches Jon in the mouth with his armoured fist. 

Dropping to his knees, Jon clutches at his mouth with shaking hands. Pain explodes all around the lower half of his face like fireworks. Blood gushes from his lips, making his fingers shiny crimson. 

“You address a knight properly, scum” the man who punched Jon says, and spits on the ground. “These Winterfell peasants don’t even know how to say Ser”

Sam, who’s face has gone such a pale colour that he looks as though he’s going to faint, clears his throat. “Ser, I-I, we, don’t know where the princess is. But I swear, if-if we find her, we’ll b-bring her to you”

The Lannister soldiers chuckle amongst themselves. 

“Looks like the fat, stuttering fool has spoken” says a soldier, one with a crooked nose and smile. “We’d love to stay and chat, but we need to have a look around this lovely home of yours”

Getting to his feet, his hand placed firmly on his mouth to stop the blood from gushing down his face, Jon starts to panic. For the children, inside their bedrooms, about to be faced with the merciless soldiers, and Sansa...

But Jon tells himself she’ll be fine. The cellar is nearly impossible to find unless you know how to find it. He usually uses the cellar to store food and stolen goods, gold and coins. He keeps it secret and safe, so if he ever got robbed, his belongings would be safe. 

As soon as the Lannister soldiers disappear up the stairs, Gilly and Sam rush to Jon. 

“Jon, are you alright?” Gilly’s voice shakes. 

“I’m fine, thank you, Gilly” Jon tries to give her a smile, but he couldn’t even move his face. 

They sit together in the foyer together, holding hands, exchanging hope, passing it back and forth like children playing ball.

The Lannisters leave just as suddenly as they came. They gave the three of them a strict warning, that if they see or hear word about the lost princess, to report it immediately. Jon locked the door firmly behind them. 

Staring at Gilly and Sam’s wide eyes, Jon takes a deep breath inwards. “Sansa. We have to get her - we have to leave now”


	12. Eddard, Chapter 12

EDDARD

Inside the castle, Eddard could smell the metallic tinge of blood. Staring into the prince’s emerald green eyes, he knew why. 

“Thank you for meeting with me, my prince” Eddard’s words are as cool as ice, despite the raging fire going on inside of him. 

Sansa’s been missing for three days. Three days. Today he woke up to the sound of Catelyn crying, and he beat his fists bloody on the wall, hating himself. How could he ever do this? He wanted to be the one running, not Sansa. Not his gentle, sweet daughter, the girl who couldn’t hurt a soul even if she tried. 

“It’s nothing” at his position on the council table, Joffrey waved at Ned as if swatting away a fly. “Please. Sit”

Even though Ned himself is a king, he’s found himself having to obey this boy. Rigidly, he sits down across from Joffrey, and folds his hands on the wooden table. 

“We have a very, er, urgent matter to discuss” Ned says, refusing to break eye contact with Joffrey. 

The boy’s golden hair shines, especially under the chandelier of the council table. Ned could tell that many girls have fallen for him, but would soon regret it once they found out what was inside that pretty head of his. 

“Yes, that we do” Joffrey says. “Your daughter, my bride, is missing and has been for three days”

“That’s why I’m here” Ned shifts in his seat uncomfortably, anxious to get to the reason for this small meeting. “I’m here to call off the wedding”

For a moment, Joffrey looked absolutely stupefied. He stared at Ned like a gaping fish. 

“Wuh-What?” he managed to splutter out at Ned. 

“I proposed this match to your mother and father when you and Sansa were both very young...hoping that it could align our kingdoms, South and North. But it just wasn’t meant to be, and I fear day and night for the safety of my daughter” 

When Ned was done talking, Joffrey started to tap his fingers on the table, one by one, echoing the sound all over the room, which was empty except for them and a few Lannister and Stark guards. 

“I don’t like people threatening me” Joffrey suddenly says, his voice eerily quiet. 

“I mean no offence” Ned says quickly. “I only meant-“

“Just choose your words carefully next time” Joffrey’s snarling voice echoed in the walls of Ned’s brain, and a little hot spark of fear erupted in his chest, threatening to set his whole body on fire.


	13. Sansa, Chapter Thirteen

SANSA

Inside the cellar, Sansa can barely breathe. 

It’s not because it’s a small space. It’s actually quite big, filled with boxes and wooden chests and stacked, unopened cans of soup. But her heart is beating so fast and her breath coming in and out of her so quickly that she feels as though somebody is holding their hand over her face, taking away her ability to breathe properly. 

Sitting down to calm her spinning head, Sansa brushes her fingertips over the fine layer of dust on the cold cellar floor. If she closed her eyes, it almost felt as soft as the snow that would land on her windowsill, all the way back at the Winterfell castle.

Closing her eyes, Sansa curses herself. Lannister soldiers are probably upstairs, scaring the life out of everyone. She thinks of the poor, helpless children who will no doubt be terrified...and Jon. Kind Jon, with his heart of gold. What if they hurt him? She’d rather give herself up to the Lannister’s than have him hurt. 

An intruding image suddenly sails into her head, a small boat rippling through her thoughts. She imagined herself running her fingers through his curly dark hair, placing a kiss just above his lips. But then she pushes it away, shoving it to the farthest part of her mind. There’s no way that she and Jon could ever, ever happen. 

Placing her head in her hands, tears swimming in her eyes, she feels something warm brush against her shoulder. Flinching with surprise, she looks up and spots the white wolf, Ghost, his ruby eyes sparkling at her. He nuzzles her face with his, licking her tears away. 

“Oh, Ghost” Sansa sighs, wondering how the wolf could’ve possibly gotten down here, running her hands up and down his white fur, “what’s become of me?”

The sudden creak of the cellar door makes both of their hearts skip a beat. For a moment, Sansa sits in pure terror, expecting to see the crimson and gold Lannister armour. 

When she sees Jon stagger down the cellar steps, she instantly stands up, overjoyed. But her joy turns to ashes in her mouth when she sees the blood on Jon’s face, dark and red and horrifying. 

“Jon!” she gasps, rushing to him. “What did they do to you?”

Without thinking, she takes his face in her hands, and presses her forehead to his. 

Jon, obviously shocked at the sudden touch, stumbles backwards. Sansa rips a piece of fabric off of the end of her dress, and gently tries to wipe some of the blood away. 

“I’m so, so sorry Jon” her voice cracks as she spots the cut on Jon’s lip, how his mouth has become swollen. “I’m so so-“

“Shh” Jon interrupts, and smiles. He reaches out, and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just fine. And you, miss, have nothing to apologize for”

In the darkness of the cellar and the closeness of their bodies, the two stare at each other, unable to take their eyes away. 

“Sansa” Jon breathes. “I...” but then he shakes his head firmly, and steps back. “It’s too dangerous here. We have to leave. Now”

“Now?” Sansa asks, surprised. “But I thought-“

“We can’t stay another day in Winterfell, not like this” Jon says all of his words in one quick breath. “We’ll leave for the Vale today. Right now”

Sansa nods, but her neck feels stiff with fear. “I-I’ll change. And dye my hair. So they can’t recognize me”

Sansa looks down at her auburn hair, runs her fingers through the loose strands, watching them sift through the cracks in her fingers like sand. Maybe I won’t even be able to recognize myself.


	14. Jon, Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Chapter fourteen is finally posted! Sorry if this story is too long, I promise that Sansa and Jon’s story will come to a close soon.  
> With love, Chrissy :)

JON

“Here” one of the children, a little girl by the name of Vera, places a glass vile of black hair dye into Jon’s calloused hands. “My mother taught me how to make them, before she died. You mix the juice from berries with vinegar. It should stay for a while, just tell the princess that she shouldn’t wash her hair. Or else the dye will go away”

The little girl suddenly frowns, her big brown eyes swimming with tears. “I don’t want her to leave”

“It’s alright” Jon pats her on the back, and kneels down to her height, so their eyes were level. “Princess Sansa isn’t safe here. We need to take her away, where she’ll be safe”

Vera nods, wiping her tears away with the back of her small hands. “Okay”

Jon finds Sansa in the bathroom, a washcloth draped over her shoulders, her neck placed on the rim of the bathtub. Sitting on a wooden chair, she plays with a loose thread on her cotton slip.

Jon tries to advert his eyes from Sansa. She wasn’t wearing anything but her cotton slip. It barely went past her knees, and hugged her torso.

“I’ve brought you some hair dye” Jon says, and her marble blue eyes flit over to him, like two twin butterflies. 

“Oh, that’s perfect, thank you, Jon” her lips curve into a smile, but then they drop into a frown when her eyes fix on Jon’s mouth. “Does it feel any better?”

“I can barely feel the pain” Jon gives her a grin, trying to convey that everything is alright, although the grin sends veins of pain shooting up his face. 

“Would you mind putting the dye in my hair? I’m quite nervous, to be honest. I...I’ve never done anything like this before” Sansa stares down into her lap, trying to keep her neck still. 

“Of course” Jon says, and walks over to her. Standing above the red crown of her head, Jon knows he’ll miss her beautiful red hair. But if it keeps her from safety, then her red hair be damned. 

Opening the vile, Jon carefully positions it over the top of her head, and watches as the dark black liquid oozes out and drops on her head. 

Placing the empty vile at his feet, Jon works the dye through her long red hair, staining his fingers and hands with black. 

“I hope you don’t mind that on our way today that I make a stop somewhere” Jon says. He pictures his mother’s grave, sitting lonely on the top of the hill, stars winking down on it like old friends. 

“Why would I?” Sansa asks. “After all that you’ve done for me, I wouldn’t mind doing anything for you”

Jon’s breath gets caught in his lungs as if it became trapped when she said those words. Running his hands through her hair, he tells himself to dismiss it. She’s just being courteous and kind. There’s no possible way she feels, well, that way for him. She’s a princess, he thinks, and I’m a pauper. 

“We will leave with Sam tonight. Knowing Ghost, he’ll probably tag along. He really likes you. So do the children. They’ll miss you”

Sansa smiles weakly. “If I ever return to my home, I’ll make my father change things around here. I’ll make him make sure that no child is ever starving while they’re in Winterfell”

“I wish you were around when I was a child” Jon chuckles. Bitter memories of him as a child, the hunger a starving, roaring creature in his belly, the cold a monster nipping at his skin. 

Once he was done working the dye into her hair, Sansa sits up, and stares down at the black hair resting on her shoulders. Jon couldn’t read her expression. 

“If it makes you feel better, you look radiant” Jon says, not able to hold himself back.

Sansa locks eyes with him, and he drowns in her ocean blue eyes, not caring as their waters fill his lungs. 

Not able to look away, he realizes how doomed he truly is.


	15. Sansa, Chapter Fifteen

SANSA

Outside Sansa felt as though the cold was climbing inside of her, nestling between her bones. 

Shivering, she pulls Jon’s cloak further up her narrow shoulders. As they were leaving the house, he had insisted that she take it, to keep her warm. The carriage moves slowly across a bumpy road, Sam’s old brown horse clip-clopping against the ground. Sansa smiles to herself as she thinks of the children, waving their goodbyes, the way Gilly hugged her like she was a sister. Sansa knew that she would miss them all very much, perhaps forever. 

Jon sits beside her, not too close, not too far away. Sansa wishes she could nestle herself in his chest, absorbing some of his warmth, like a baby bird. But she keeps her distance. 

“I’m sorry it’s so cold tonight” Jon says apologetically, staring down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I heard it was going to be a little warmer”

Sansa chuckles softly, and breathes onto her fingers, her hot breath giving them some warmth. “I’m used to the cold. Don’t worry” 

When the carriage stops, Sansa glances out the window, and her face twists with confusion when she realizes that they’ve stopped at a graveyard. She sees the dark graves sticking out of the ground like bones, empty and hollow. All of the graves were abandoned, except for one, that was surrounded by plucked blue flowers that were taken from the ground around the graveyard.

“I’ll just be a moment, I swear” Jon says, and rises to his feet in the carriage, his head sweeping against its roof. He pulls his cloak further up Sansa’s shoulders, and gives her an awkward smile before disappearing out the door.

Sansa plays with her newly dyed dark hair, twisting it around her index finger. She watches him climb up the hill, and pull a few dandelions from the ground to place on the grave. 

Sansa presses her lips into a thin line, rests the left side of her face against the chilly window. Who is he giving the flowers to? Jon’s body language showed despair as he climbed up the hill, passing gravestones until he reached the one with all the flowers. Seeing him this sad made a pit grow in Sansa’s stomach. 

Deciding that she couldn’t just sit and stare at him this way, she picks up the fabric of her dress at the knees, lifting it up above her ankles as she slowly steps out of the carriage. The cool night breeze brushes at her face with ashy fingers. 

The grass is dry and yellow beneath her feet, crunching underneath her shoes with every step. As she passes the graves, a sinking feeling comes into her stomach, although Sansa is not sure why. 

When she sees Jon, hunched in on himself, shivering, Sansa straightens her shoulders. I must look happy, to cheer him.

“Hello. I hope I’m not imposing on anything” Sansa smiles, and stands beside him. Above them, the stars begin to peek out, like shy birds from a sea of dark blue. 

“No, no, of course not” Jon shakes his head, and his dark curls bounce. “I just come here every night. To...I don’t know. I never even knew her” he nods at the gravestone. It was blank except for birth and death dates, and a single name, Lyanna. “She died giving birth to me. I don’t know who my father is, either. I’m guessing he’s dead”

Sansa grimaces. She can’t imagine not having a family, people to lean back on when times get tough. She thinks of her own mother, Catelyn’s river eyes and ruby coloured hair. How her soft palms would brush her hair, detangling deep knots, and her fingers, long and slender, would wipe away tears from nightmares. 

“Jon, I don’t know what to say” Sansa says softly. She wishes she could help him. Heal him. Take all of his pain away, drain it out from him like dirty bath water. 

In the breeze, her dark hair floats around her. She looks over at Jon, who’s been staring at her. 

“Sansa” he says, his words so soft that they almost get lost in the cold wind. 

He looks so beautiful, Sansa thinks. His deep brown eyes, the way his full lips quivered, how he stared at her with yearning. And suddenly forgetting everything, Sansa leans forward, wraps her arms around his shoulders, and kisses his mouth. 

A warmth erupts in Sansa’s body as she trails her fingers up his neck, buries them in his hair. He places his hands on her waist, pulling her even closer until their breaths were one. When they finally pulled away from each other, gasping gently for air, Sansa felt as though the stars had dropped from the sky and into their bodies.


	16. Jon, Chapter Sixteen

JON

Gasping, he stands inches away from Sansa’s face. So close he could see the tiny freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, the soft skin under her eyes. He could see the flecks of white and silver in her blue eyes, how they shimmer like stones underneath the glistening surface of a flowing river. 

He touches her face gently with his fingertips, his heart hammering in shock. 

“I-I I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have...” Sansa’s eyes flutter, and she stares down at her feet. “I didn’t mean to-“

“Shh” Jon quiets her, places his fingers on her lips. She stares at him, doe-eyed. “It’s alright. I’m alright. Are-are you?” he asks stupidly. 

Sansa smiles, and presses her smiling cheek into his palm. “Yes. I’m alright”

Seeing the stars reflected in her eyes, the way she’s staring at him, makes Jon want to cup her face in his hands and kiss her again and never let her lips go, but he hears his name called out from the carriage below. 

“Jon! Best be on our way!” It’s Sam, sounding nervous, his voice shaky. 

“Er, right” Jon drops his hands from her face, although they scream at him for her touch. “Go on to the carriage. I’ll be just a moment”

Giving him a single nod before leaving, Jon stares at his mother’s grave as she ascends down the hill. 

I’ve done something wrong, he thinks, I shouldn’t have let her kiss me, she’s a damn princess. I can’t be kissing a princess. 

But he turns, sees her step into the carriage, and his heart flutters. But I can’t help it. I love her. 

Inside of the carriage, Sansa has the side of her head against the wall, and her eyes closed. Poor thing, Jon thinks, must be so tired. 

As the carriage spurs to life and starts to head into the rocky path of the forest, Jon pulls his cloak up to her chin, and down to the toes of her shoes. She’s so peaceful asleep. No worries plaguing her, like the marriage to that psychotic prince. Just rest. 

Brushing her hair out of her sleeping eyes, Jon joins Sam at the front of the carriage, where Sam is holding the reigns for his horse tightly in his hands. The air is biting and cold, and Jon stares out at the passing trees like they’re odd strangers.

“Did you see us kiss?” Jon asks, shattering the silence between them. 

Sam doesn’t answer for a moment. He draws in a deep breath, like a backwards sigh, then nods. “Yes. I did”

“Sam, why didn’t you just-“

“Jon, I’m worried” Sam cuts him off, surprising Jon. Sam is not the interrupting type. “Not just about our safety, not just about the prince. About the two of you. Especially you. I don’t want to see you get hurt”

“I won’t” Jon says. “I know what she is, and what I am”

She’s a noblewoman. A princess. The eldest daughter of a king. And he? He the thief, the orphan, the pauper. Their worlds were never supposed to collide. But they did. 

“I see the way she looks at you” Sam says quietly, his eyes fixed up at the sky, not looking at Jon. “Like...you’re the only person in the world. And I see how you look at her. Like she’s the sun”

Jon clenches his jaw, stares down at his hands. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he’s forgotten how to speak, how to form words together in his mouth. With a slight tinge of despair, he realizes that what Sam said is absolutely true.


	17. Sansa, Chapter Seventeen

SANSA

Sansa awoke groggily, her neck cramped from leaning against the wall of the carriage, and a small but gnawing headache. Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, she steps out of the carriage to be greeted by the night. 

Jon and Sam have started a fire and are huddled around it, Jon chewing on his clenched knuckles. Sansa watches as the fire flickers orange and yellow, embers flying off to become stars. 

When Jon notices her, he springs up to his feet. Sam, who looks quite sleepy, barely notices. 

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you” Jon says. “But we made sandwiches”

“I made the sandwiches” Sam mumbles. “If Jon had made them, we’d be vomiting then up by now”

Rolling his eyes playfully, Jon steps up to Sansa. Her heart begins to throb as he places his hand on her cheek. 

“You look pale. Are you feeling well?” he asks, his voice gentle. “Come sit by the fire. It’s warm”

“No, I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking. About...about everything” she presses her cheek into his warm palm. Her thoughts have been a whirlwind lately, a tragic storm ripping everything through its path. Names like Joffrey, Eddard, Lysa and Jon, places like the North, the South and Jon’s arms, all yelling at her inside simultaneously. 

“Don’t” Jon says. “You needn’t worry. I’m here with you” in the light of the fire, his eyes glow. 

“Is there a stream around here?” Sansa asks, wanting to feel some cool water on her face. 

Jon drops his hand, and Sansa finds herself longing for that warm touch again. “Um, yes. There’s a small one over there” he nods towards the east, where the tall, looming trees separate. 

Pulling up her sleeves, Sansa crouches beside the miniature stream. The water glistens underneath her fingertips, capturing the moonlight and splaying it back at her, as serene as a painting that you could find in the Winterfell castle. Making a cup with her hands, Sansa closes her eyes and splashes her face, letting the water cool her.

Just as she was about to stand and head back to camp, she hears a shout. Startled, she drops back down, the soft trickling sound of the stream no longer comforting. 

“Jon?” She calls out with uncertainty. 

The fire gets snuffed out, and suddenly, Sansa is curtained by darkness. The sounds of swords clashing, steel on steel, fills her ears and lungs with horror. Clamping her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream, Sansa stumbles backwards. 

“Run!” Jon yells, and his voice reaches her like a beacon in the dark. Stumbling to her feet, Sansa’s vision becomes blurry with tears. 

No, she thinks, I cannot leave him and Sam. What good would it be if I left him?

But no. I can’t stay. I’m useless in a brawl. I can go and get help. 

About to turn and run, Sansa suddenly feels an icy hand on her shoulder. Freezing in her tracks, she looks up, into the cold grey eyes of a stranger. 

“And just where do you think you’re going?”


	18. Jon, Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

JON

Jon can taste blood in his mouth, sour and cold, stinging his senses, as Sansa is dragged up from the stream by one of the cold eyed men.

In the dark hands of the night, Jon feels a creature of rage growl and snarl inside of him, frantically clawing to get out. His fists shaking, he roars out. “Leave her be!”

Three men have arrows positioned perfectly at the back of him and Sam’s necks. Jon knows that any wrong movement would get them, and Sansa, killed. But fighting the urge to run to Sansa, wrap his arms around her shaking body and run, was agonizing.

“Now, my men have searched your carriage” the man, who seems to be the leader in this pack of bandits, stares Jon down. “And found nothing of value. Not that I’m surprised, honestly, but we aren’t leaving until we get our pay. Right, boys?”

The men positioned around them in a semi circle all chuckle. Jon doesn’t care. He can’t focus. He only has eyes for Sansa. 

Sansa’s hair is dyed. She doesn’t look the same as she did two days ago, much less how she would look as a princess. There’s no possible way she’d be recognized, he reassures himself. 

Sansa’s shoulders shudder up and down as she is forced to kneel beside Sam. Jon feels as though he’s gotten a dozen different splinters on his soul, small deep cuts that sting with every breath he takes. 

I should have protected her. I’m useless.

“Now, my name is Roose. And you three will address me as so” says the man. He looks so gaunt, with a sharp boned face and pale eyes. Something about him unsettled Jon deeply. “And, we do know that you have something of value here”

“Then what is it?” Jon says in a low growl. “We have no gold. No money. I do have some stored back home. If you would just let the two of them-“ he nods at Sansa and Sam, “-go, I’ll give you all of it. I swear”

Roose laughs, a cold, joyless laugh. “You think I’ll really believe you? You must be stupider than you look. No. What you have of value is much more than gold or coins. It’s her” he stares at Sansa. 

The beast inside of Jon gets more frantic. He clenches and unclenches his fists, his fingernails digging into the soft, fleshy skin of his palms. 

Despite her shaking, Sansa straightens. “Sir, I’m quite flattered. However, I’m just a peasant. Much like you, I suppose. I don’t know what value you speak of”

Roose taps on his jaw with two long, slender fingers. “Dear girl, do you know what reward Eddard Stark has out for his daughter? What reward Joffrey Baratheon has out for his silly, runaway bride?” his eyes, which were gleaming like polished coins at the thought of those said rewards, suddenly flick over to Jon and Sam. “And...do you know what Prince Baratheon plans to do to the evil, evil man who’s been hiding his bride, hm? I heard it was quite dreadful”

Jon gnashes his teeth together. I don’t care, he thinks, I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care. Just don’t touch her. 

“Again, I don’t know why you’re telling us this. I’m not the lost princess, and neither of the men here have nothing to do with her” Sansa says, repeating herself. 

“Hold your tongue” a man behind Roose growls, but Roose waves him off. 

“You may not look like her. But I heard these two lovely gentlemen talking earlier. Both referred to you as Sansa”

Jon’s blood runs cold through his veins. How long where they following us? He turns to look at Sansa, who is still holding her ground, her jaw clenched to stop her shivering. 

One of the men, the younger man with the stocky build a sinister grin on his face, grabs at Sansa’s hair. Startled, Sansa cries out, clawing at him.

“Let her go!” Jon yells, his voice cracking and splintering like delicate glass. Jon’s worst fears came to light just before his eyes. Deep underneath Sansa’s dark dyed hair, were strands of brilliant red. Jon feels completely hollow as the young man grins, as if he had just found a buried treasure.


End file.
